June 30th, 1915

Dearest cousin,

I see it in your subtle expressions that when you look into my eyes I feel as though you are seeing a future; practicing words and phrases that are yet unsaid, mouthing names of children we do not have, experiencing emotions not yet real. I know this, because there was a time, when I saw all of them when I looked upon you. Now, I only see your potential for grief, and nothing else.

It's not that I see no future for us. But the one you hold and that one I knew is no longer and cannot be. Not anymore, not after what I've seen, what I've experienced. There is the present, and at the present moment I am still alive and that is all that I am and can be certain.

Simply put, I cannot make plans. I simply cannot, doing so would be untrue of me and unfair to you. Mary, I cannot promise you this dynasty. I cannot promise you the world as it was, as it should. I see death, I see death all around in the trenches, and even when I am in London, all I see is dust.

I know all of this must sound terribly depressing to you and to be perfectly honest, I've put words to page far too many times tonight. And I simply cannot continue. I apologize for my mood.

Yours truly,

Matthew

July 12th, 1915

Dearest Matthew,

I am glad to hear from you again. You seemed to have misunderstood me. I am not asking for any promises. I am not asking for a future. I am simply asking to be part of your present. My greatest fear in life right now, which I say without exaggeration, is that you will shut me out and bear the front lines yourself; that I cannot bring myself to allow you to do.

If the world has thus decided that you must be a soldier; a warrior, let the world recognize that I will not and have not abandoned you. I did once before, I cannot and will not make that mistake again.

Matthew, you can be however you are with me. You need no formalities with me, you need not be polite. Perhaps once, when I was young and foolish, but no more. Matthew, I simply ask that you talk to me, honestly and sincerely. I am not asking you to make plans. I am merely asking for your current thoughts, so that you may not be so alone. And you are lonely, I saw it on your face and the way you put your words to page.

I apologize if I over-stepped, I still do have the tendency to voice my opinions when they are not welcome.

In any case, I hope that you are well and that you are safe.

Best wishes always,

Mary

July 27th, 1915

Dear Mary,

I can see now that I am not going to scare you away. In truth I am very glad. As you have no doubt surmised, there are bad and worse nights here. Sometimes, we cannot be counted upon to be men. Some days, we are little more than ghosts. My days have gotten duller again. Two months with another regiment and back into the hole you go. I must admit I do miss the perks of being an aristocrat.

But when you look over the trenches and you see the miles upon miles of battlements, and the sheer destruction we have made. No earl can calm the sorrows of men, no duke can tame the raging spirits of war, no man has any power over himself. It would seem, providence has not blessed us after all.

I'm sorry again, but my mind tends to wander. You keep these thoughts in your head for so long and with no one to speak it to and no one to listen you just naturally feel inclined to express it all, somehow. I should be asking about the family. How are things? How are your parents? How are your sisters? How is Carson?

I hope that all is well in your life. I am starting to get settled back in. I have received news that Captain Timothy Kirby has recently passed away from his injuries. It is a sad thing. I'm not sure if the news has reached Robert but I'm sure he'll want to know. And can you deliver the card I have attached to this letter to the Kirby's? I would very much like to pay my respects to them.

Thank you again, for being supportive and patient in this time. By the way, I will be in London at the end of August. If you have not yet left back to Downton, I will be on leave starting on the 20th.

Sincerely,

Matthew

August 11th, 1915

Dear Matthew,

I will be in London until the last week of September. I will be at Claridge's. Shall we meet for tea on Saturday? I'm sorry, I shouldn't open my letter this way but I would very much like to see you again before I go back to Yorkshire.

I did end up delivering your card to the Kirbys. They were very grateful and they thank you. They know that you did all that you could, and so do I. I know this gets said all too often, or perhaps, not often enough, but we are all so very proud of you. Papa wishes you well and hopes that you can come back to Downton on leave one of these days. Mama sends her love. Edith, Sybil, and I bought you this book. It's a copy of the first edition, The Wealth of Nations. I see you eyeing it off papa's shelf all the time. And the times you do manage to take it off the shelf and read a couple of pages, you seemed to always be called away. And since you haven't much to do in the trenches, we'd all thought that you would enjoy reading it now.

Carson also sends his regards and wishes you courage and luck. As do I. We think alike, more than most people know.

I look forward to seeing you in time. Until then, keep safe.

All the best,

Mary

Inside Cover of The Wealth of Nations

Interestingly enough, despite Mary writing that it was from all three of them; the personal message was from her alone.

Dearest Matthew,

I do indeed hope that, despite our troubling times, you maintain, somehow through all of this, your unblemished optimism. And I hope that this book reminds you of the virtuous qualities of the grand project of man.

Mary